Relapse
by V001
Summary: On a hunt gone wrong, Sam is forced to drink demon blood and relapses into addiction. Will Dean be able to save him? Set in season 13. Hurt/limp/hallucinating Sam! Protective/worried Dean!
1. Chapter 1

Sam awoke with a start, the visions of hell fire and Lucifer slowly dissipating as he oriented himself to his room.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and propped up on his elbow to peer over at the neon glowing numbers on his alarm. It was 3:00 AM. He had only slept for an hour.

Sam plopped back down onto the bed, frustrated. He kicked off his covers and relished the feel of the chilly air against his burning skin. He always appreciated the cool temperature of his room, unlike Dean's which typically ran warmer. At the thought of Dean, he held still and listened, making sure he didn't hear his brother rushing down the bunker hall toward him. Sam hoped he hadn't yelled in his sleep, but luckily the bunker walls were thick and sound didn't travel far.

He stifled a moan and rubbed his temples uselessly as a sharp pain erupted in the center of his head, emanating outwards and throbbing against all sides. Another painful stab and a few spots of color flashed before his eyes. Sam quietly cried out and sat up on the bed. There was no way he was going back to sleep.

He stood and steadied himself against the headboard before moving carefully over to the bathroom, the deep ache he felt throughout his body making him wince as he walked. He splashed his face with cold water and then stared absently at the running sink faucet.

He thought again of the Prince of Hell fight, as he repeatedly had in the past three days since their return. This particularly brutal run-in with Asmodeus took them by surprise while they were investigating a vampire report in a deserted warehouse. Asmodeus and a dozen demons ambushed them in what the brothers later discovered was a deliberate trap orchestrated by the new Ruler of Hell.

Sam and Dean had managed to quickly eliminate most of the demons, but there were too many for just the two of them. Dean was struggling with a pair of demons when Asmodeus blindsided Sam who was on the way to help his brother. Asmodeus grabbed Sam by the throat, pinning him painfully against the wall. "Now you...you are an interesting one," Asmodeus hissed and slid Sam up the wall and off his feet with the vice-like grip he held around Sam's neck. Sam vividly recalled the feeling of suffocating as he desperately clawed at Asmodeus's hands and heard his brother fighting in the distance.

"I sense something evil in you," Asmodeus said, inches in front of Sam's face. "A little bird tells me you have a weakness for demon blood." To Sam's horror, Asmodeus brought his teeth to his own wrist and bit hard, causing crimson blood to fall freely from the wound. He still held Sam firmly by the neck with his other hand. "Maybe we make you one of us." Asmodeus shoved his pouring wrist into Sam's mouth. Sam tried to move his head but he was trapped against the wall, dark spots dancing in his vision as he continued to lose oxygen. What little breath he was taking in was now replaced with the rush of bitter, metallic blood. Sam gagged and fought, his inevitable death the only clear thought coming to his mind. Asmodeus continued to hold him effortlessly while he laughed, the Prince of Hell blood burning its way down Sam's throat and settling like a rock in his stomach. "I think," Asmodeus cooed, moving his wrist away and watching Sam with a smug expression, "that I will be seeing you again very soon." Asmodeus's laugh boomed in Sam's head as he slipped into darkness.

An explosion of pain in the center of his head brought Sam abruptly back to the present. He turned off the sink and moved into his bedroom where he quickly retrieved the painkillers he had covertly taken from their stash. He dry swallowed two and sat back on the bed, shivering though his skin still felt hot. "Thank god for Cass," Sam breathed to himself. It was Castiel who had saved both the brothers. Sam couldn't be sure what happened, but when he came to, Cass was leaning over him and the warehouse was empty. "Cass..." Sam had choked out, his throat screaming in pain as he wiped Asmodeus's blood from his mouth. Cass didn't seem to notice. As soon as Sam answered, Cass rushed over to Dean who was trying to stand and appeared to have been thrown into a small structure, splintered wood laying around him.

Cass got them both back to the bunker and promptly left again to attend to some business which he mentioned in his usual vague and cryptic manner. Dean was down for a few days from a nasty dagger stab in his shoulder and a bruised rib. As was his typical fashion, Dean kept to himself and implemented his standard regimen of sleeping, medicating and occasionally chugging a beer while complaining about demons under his breath. Sam was grateful Dean was distracted by his own injuries. As bad as he felt for his brother, Sam needed the privacy.

Unlike his brother, Sam felt revitalized when they first returned. His minor injuries healed quickly and although his thoughts were often racing, he felt sharper and faster. Most of all he felt _powerful_, a coursing energy ebbing throughout his body.

But the high was short lived, and the next day the familiar symptoms of blood withdrawal started to creep in, symptoms he remembered all too well from his last relapse caused by the Horseman, Famine. He knew it was foolish to think it would pass and despite his best efforts to ignore the pain, it was growing progressively worse.

Sam was torn away from his thoughts by a wave of nausea that overcame him. He vomited what little he had eaten earlier that night into the toilet and cursed at the loss of his painkillers. He hovered over the toilet, unsure if he would puke again, when he heard it. The unmistakable voice of Lucifer.

"Hey there, buddy."

Sam fell back against the bathroom wall and gaped in disbelief at the now present Lucifer who was casually sitting on the side of the bathtub across from him.

In a wild panic, Sam pushed himself on his feet and darted out of the bathroom. But his attempt at getting away from Lucifer was useless. Sam was greeted instantly by Lucifer who now perched on the side of his bed.

"Tsk-tsk. You know you can't get away from me, Sammy."

"No…how?" Sam said to himself, a slow realization dawning on him that Lucifer couldn't be real. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying the effort would somehow force the hallucination away. But when Sam opened his eyes, Lucifer remained on his bed, an amused expression on his face.

"Does it really matter if I'm real or not?" Lucifer chuckled and hopped off the bed. Sam reflexively jumped back and found himself pressed against the wall. "I'll always be in your head, Sammy." Lucifer smiled and tapped his finger to his temple. "I'll always be with you no matter where you go or what you do."

"Leave me alone!" Sam snapped. The throbbing pain in his head suddenly peaked and he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

"You know what you need to do, don't you, Sam? Saaaaam…"

"Shut up!" Sam shouted. He pushed his shaking hands through his sweat soaked hair and then brought his palms to press on the front of his eyes, trying again to force the image of the Devil out of his mind.

"Saaaaam," Lucifer sung softly and Sam looked up to see Lucifer moving closer to him. "If you really don't want me around you need to drink more blood."

"No...No…" Sam muttered, his head buried in his hands. He shuddered and moaned as another wave of agony washed over him.

"If you don't," Lucifer said pointedly, "you and me will be bunk buddies again. You know your pompous-ass brother doesn't understand. He'll lock you up in a room like last time and you'll die in there. That was Prince of Hell blood you had, Sammy. Not your run-of-the-mill demon blood. You can't just ride this one out."

"Stop!" Sam demanded again, trying to calm his rapid breathing.

"Don't you remember how Dean just locked you in the panic room...twice! Or was it three times? I lost count." Lucifer sounded angry now as he began pacing around Sam's room. "Just left you in there like some kind of monster!"

Sam felt his resolve slipping. Lucifer wasn't wrong. Dean would surely lock him up as soon as he found out. Sam's chest restricted at the mere thought of being kept in anything that remotely resembled the panic room. He recalled vividly the feeling of being utterly trapped. Trapped with nothing but his hallucinations and pain. He wouldn't detox that way again. He _couldn't_.

"And the worst part is your brother just doesn't get it," Lucifer went on.

"You don't know my brother," Sam said, still sitting on the floor. His legs felt weak and he didn't trust himself to try to stand.

"Don't I?" Lucifer hissed, "Where is he? He's not here with you. And do you know why that is?"

"Shut up!" Sam pressed his palms against his ears.

"This has nothing to do with me, Sammy. Dean's not here with you right now because you don't want him here. You don't want him to know about the blood and how powerful it makes you feel. He's just going to get in the way and make everything worse. And you _know that_."

Sam looked up at Lucifer. Was he right? Why hadn't he told his brother yet?

"Level with me here, Sammy." Lucifer sat on the floor in front of Sam, much too close. Sam pushed himself against the wall as best he could. "At least get some blood and take a few small doses to taper off. Then there won't be any panic room. Dean doesn't get it. He doesn't understand. You have to do this without him."

Lucifer leaned in closer, only inches from Sam's face. Sam found himself suddenly trapped in Lucifer's eyes, the fiery red glow piercing into him. Maybe Lucifer was right. What else could he do? He wouldn't be able to hide his situation from Dean much longer and Dean would never understand...not really. He would never understand the power Sam received from demon blood or what it felt like to crave it. How could he?

"You know what you have to do, Sam." Sam nodded, feeling his new plan solidify. Lucifer winked and then vanished.

Sam collected himself and forced himself off the floor. He hastily began to gather his things to leave.

* * *

Sam thought it would be difficult to kill a demon in his weakened state, but an uncontrollable urge energized him when the summoned crossroads demon appeared. The demon recognized the Winchester at once and took off running into the nearby trees. Sam chased the demon a short distance into the woods where he made easy work of killing her.

Sam slit the demon's wrist, her body still twitching, and sucked down the warm blood. He had wanted to save most of the blood to use for gradually weaning himself off, but his plans were abandoned at the first taste of the fresh, streaming blood. He drank his fill and felt no regret as he fell back into the damp forest grass, finally satisfied. He laid there for some time, gazing up at the swaying trees and savoring the full-body tingling that flooded his body.

Eventually, Sam gathered himself and tried to store what remained of the blood in several empty vials before heading out of town.

* * *

Dean's stomach dropped when he finally checked his brother's room and found it empty.

They had been through one hell of a fight and Dean wanted to let his brother sleep in if he needed to, but at about noon Dean decided to check on Sam. Not only was Sam's travel bag gone, but his phone lay abandoned on his bed.

Calling Cass was Dean's first step, but the angel's phone went straight to voicemail. Dean cursed and then called the next hunter that came to mind.

"No, I haven't heard from him. You're sure he left and wasn't taken?" Jody asked from the other side of the phone.

"Yeah, I'm sure. He took his stuff but left his phone. He probably knew I would try to track it." Dean ran a hand over his face and tried to control his temper. Why on earth would his brother just leave?

"How was he acting before he left?"

"He was keeping to himself, but I thought he was just trying to take it easy," Dean sighed. He was so distracted with his own injuries he hadn't been paying much attention to his brother. "And he took the freakin' Impala, Jody."

"Dean, that's good actually," Jody tried to encourage. "That will be easy to track and I'll give you access to the traffic cameras. I'll text you the info."

"Thanks, Jody. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it," Jody said before hanging up.

Dean spent several hours searching traffic cameras around the area. He would catch the Impala but would lose it again among the tangle of camera angles and streets leaving town. Finally, Dean identified the town where the Impala seemed to stop, about 8 hours from the bunker. "What are you doing over there?" Dean mumbled to himself. He wrote down the addresses of all the motels in the area before quickly leaving.

* * *

"What were you thinking grabbing that Impala?" Lucifer asked, lounging comfortably on Sam's motel bed.

Sam ignored him and went back to arranging his blood stash on the nightstand. He had managed to kill another two crossroad demons on his way out of town and stored their blood in a dozen water bottles he purchased from a gas station.

"I mean, that thing stands out like a sore thumb," Lucifer went on.

"I know, alright?" Sam retorted. "I was in a rush and needed to get out of there. I'll ditch it at the next town." Sam finished drinking a bottle of blood he was working on and felt a sinking dread when he only received the smallest respite from symptoms, his head still pounding relentlessly.

"Speaking of towns, you really need to keep moving. You're only three towns over and your brother is going to find you."

"Shut up!" Sam yelled. He was sure his skull was on the verge of exploding and the last thing he needed was Lucifer's endless chatter. "Are you at least going to say something useful?"

Lucifer grinned and sat up on the bed. "Oh, like tell you why the blood isn't helping anymore?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Like I said before, Prince of Hell blood is not the same as your typical demon blood." Lucifer picked up a bottle of blood from the nightstand and tossed it between his hands. "Demon blood will only get you so far."

"What?" Sam tried to focus on what Lucifer was saying but his thoughts were muddled, an incoherent mess that worsened with each unbearable pulse of his head. "You told me I could just get more demon blood and wean myself off!"

Lucifer shrugged. "I lied." He laughed, a deafening sound that reverberated in Sam's skull. "Now Asmodeus is not my favorite creation, but he is a smart one. He certainly didn't give you his blood for no reason."

Sam gasped as another fresh stab of pain assaulted him. He tried to blink past the spots of color that danced in front of his eyes. "Asmodeus?"

"If you were to do a favor for the Ruler of Hell, I am sure he would be willing to return it with some of his blood."

"No…that can't be right."

Lucifer laughed again. "Oh, Sammy. You think you have a choice? You'll be dead before the end of the week if you don't go to him."

"No, this can't—" Sam was interrupted by a loud thud, his motel door bursting open. It was Dean.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Dean kicked open the motel door, shotgun at the ready. With one sweeping glance he noticed Sam was alone. At the sight of his brother, Sam's hazel eyes transformed into solid black abysses. He looked pale and beyond him, Dean spotted what appeared to be bottles of blood. _Demon blood._ Dean slowly registered.

Before Dean could say a word, Sam's arm shot out and Dean was suddenly flying backwards, slamming hard into the motel wall. With another wave of his brother's hand, Dean's shotgun was ripped away by the invisible force and the motel door slammed shut.

"Sammy…" Dean said breathlessly as he tried to get his bearings. He attempted to move but he was pinned painfully against the wall, the force holding him heavy and oppressive.

"You shouldn't have come," Sam said wearily. He looked sickly, sweat beading on his brow. "You're just going to get in the way."

"Sam…" Dean tried again. "What's wrong, Sammy? What's going on?"

"I…" Sam began and then stopped abruptly to look off in the direction of the bed. "Stop! I know that!" He shouted at nothing. Dean felt his blood run cold. This was much worse than he expected.

"There's nobody there. Look at me, man." Sam turned back towards Dean. "It would be a lot easier to talk if you let me down," Dean panted, the pressure of the force making it hard to take in deep breaths. "It's just me."

"You don't understand!" Sam sounded unhinged. He was shaking and large bags hung under his eyes.

"You're right, I don't understand. Why don't you let me down and explain it to me?" Dean urged carefully, trying again to wiggle his arms and legs with no success. "I'm not mad about the demon blood. We can fix this."

"This is because of Asmodeus. I have to get to Asmodeus. He can fix this. You don't under—" Sam suddenly gasped in surprise and fell to his knees, grabbing his head.

The force holding Dean instantly released and Dean landed on his feet. "Sam!" He rushed over to his brother who was now hunched over on the floor with his head buried in his hands.

Sam looked up at Dean, his eyes back to their normal brown. "I'm sorry," He wheezed, his face scrunched in pain. "I messed up."

"It's alright, Sammy, it's alright." Dean crouched in front of his brother and rubbed Sam's back as he desperately tried to think. Sam was clearly in severe pain and Dean had no idea how to stop it.

"I should have told you. I can feel it...I can feel Asmodeus's blood in me," Sam nearly sobbed.

Dean gripped his brother's shoulders. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're going to be alright."

"You have to get out of here before I lose control again," Sam pleaded. "You have to—" Sam suddenly pulled away from Dean and gave an agonizing scream, blood falling from his nose. He fell back, unconscious on the floor.

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean roughly shook his brother who made no response. His mind was racing.

His first instinct was to get Sam back to the bunker where it was safe. Then he could figure out what to do.

Dean pulled his brother over his shoulder and carried him quickly to the Impala.

* * *

Sam felt the familiar rumble of the Impala and the sound of Dean's voice as he slowly came to.

"…Yes, it's really freakin' bad. Like he threw me against the wall with his powers bad…yeah, I'm pretty sure this is Asmodeus. He must have done something to him when I wasn't looking…"

Sam attempted to open his eyes and instantly winced at the bright, searing sunlight outside of the window. He tried to move his hands and found them restrained by a pair of warded handcuffs tight against his wrists and affixed to the Impala's door handle.

"…I gotta go, he's waking up…should be there in about 5 hours…ok thanks, Cass."

Dean put his phone down and glanced away from the road to look at Sam. "Sammy, how are you feeling?"

"God, your brother and his stupid questions, am I right?" Lucifer called from the back seat. "You tell him you need to see Asmodeus and he ties you up like some kind of animal."

Sam felt his blood start to boil as he pulled on the cuffs. Lucifer was right. How dare Dean try to stop him? His head throbbed, the pressure building to an excruciating level.

"Sam?"

Sam pulled on the cuffs hard, a cold sweat breaking out across his body. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Lucifer and his own solid black eyes staring back.

"Let me out, Dean," Sam panted, yanking on the cuffs again. "Let me out!"

Dean glanced over at Sam and his eyes looked somber. "I'm sorry, Sammy, I can't do that right now. You're not well, okay? I have to get you home."

"I'm not going back to the panic room. I'm not going to be locked up!" Sam heard Lucifer laughing as he continued to jerk on the cuffs and door handle. Blood began blossoming from under the handcuffs where the metal cut into his wrists with every yank. "I need to see Asmodeus. Let me go!"

"That's not going to happen," Dean said calmly. He kept his eyes on the road as Sam continued to shout. Eventually, Dean stopped responding altogether, making a clear effort to ignore Sam.

Sam wasn't sure how much time passed before he relented, but night had fallen and a light rain was tapping on the car. His energy continued to fade as the crushing pressure in his head intensified and he began to shake, sweat soaking through his shirt.

Dean was saying something but his words seemed far away and muted. Where were they going? Sam tried to remember but another wave of agony overwhelmed him and Sam cried out, the pain worsening with every passing moment.

He felt the Impala slow and stop. His door was opened and Dean was there, gingerly unlocking his cuffs. They appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. It was pitch black and a drizzle was still falling.

"Sammy? Talk to me, man." Sam started shivering harder against the night breeze and he felt the weight of Dean's leather jacket placed on his shoulders.

"Dean…" Sam tried, but was distracted by a surge of nausea that suddenly hit him. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Okay, no problem, Sammy," Dean said gently and helped Sam out of the car. Sam's knees immediately buckled and he began to vomit into the damp grass. He felt Dean by his side, rubbing circles on his back, and tried to focus on his words. "It's okay, I'm right here. It will be okay. Just take deep breaths."

Sam continued to puke until he was just dry heaving. When he was done, he fell back to sit against the Impala, exhausted.

Dean was still there, now crouched in front of him, emerald eyes blazing with worry.

"Sammy? How are you feeling?"

Sam tried to hold Dean's gaze but he started to feel uncomfortably hot. He shrugged off Dean's jacket and began to remove his shirt when Dean's strong hands stopped him.

"Hot," Sam murmured weakly.

"I know, Sammy, but it's cold out. You can't take your clothes off. You're running a fever." Dean's hand rested on Sam's forehead and lightly brushed back his wet hair.

Sam moaned as another stab spilt through his head. Warm blood fell from his nose and Dean lightly mopped it up with a handkerchief.

"Listen, we are almost home. I just need you to hold out a little longer, okay?"

Dean helped Sam back into the car and this time left the cuffs off. The Impala began to move again and Sam felt himself slipping away, back into the cage, back into hell with Lucifer. Lucifer had him trapped in the cage, demons and hellfire dancing around them. The Devil wielded a long, pointed dagger that he aimed at the center of Sam's forehead and began to push in. Sam screamed, the searing pain unbearable as the dagger entered into his skull.

Sam came to in the Impala, his door was open again and Dean was kneeling next to him. "Sam? Sammy?!"

"Dean," Sam mumbled, trying to focus on his brother's face.

"Thank god," Dean breathed, "Sammy, are you with me? We are here, we are back home. We just need to get you inside."

Sam tried to nod. Cass came up beside Dean.

"Dean…he doesn't look well."

"No kidding," Dean growled at the angel as he helped Sam out of the car.

Sam attempted to take a step but the ground was sinking and spinning beneath him.

"Whoa, whoa, I got you." Dean pulled one of Sam's arms over his shoulder, bearing the majority of Sam's weight. They started walking towards the bunker when Sam's body started to feel impossibly heavy. The sensation of falling overwhelmed him and he was suddenly back in hell with the Devil.

* * *

Dean carefully rested his unconscious brother on the bed and ran a hand over his face.

"How was he in the car?" Cass asked, surveying Sam.

"Not good. He was fighting me there for a while and then he just kind of…" Dean trailed off. His brother seemed to be having a nightmare, taking short irregular breaths and groaning quietly. "It seems different from the other withdrawals he's had."

"Prince of Hell blood is very strong, Dean. Any normal human would have been poisoned by its potency. But your brother…"

"Yeah, he's different. I know," Dean sighed and grabbed a thermometer from the supplies Cass had put in the bedroom. Dean was about to take his brother's temperature when Sam suddenly shuddered and cried out, eyes flying open.

"Sammy? It's alright, I'm right here," Dean tried to soothe.

"Dean," Sam gasped, "I—" Sam yelled out again, arching off the bed and grabbing his head.

"Sammy!" Dean called, but Sam didn't seem able to hear him. Dean looked desperately at Cass. "Tell me you found something."

Cass nodded. "I found a strong cleansing spell that should work. I have everything set up in the other room."

"Okay, let's move fast," Dean said as he gently pulled his brother off the bed and Cass grabbed Sam's other side. They made their way to the room Cass prepared and laid Sam on a long table that sat in the middle of the room, a circle of symbols painted on the floor beneath. Dean noticed built-in restraints on the table and rose an eyebrow. "This necessary?"

"Yes, I believe it is."

Dean nodded gravely and the pair secured the restraints around Sam's wrists and ankles.

Cass hurried over to a small dais that was lit by candles and began mixing ingredients Dean didn't recognize in a small metal bowl.

Sam bellowed in pain again, the restraints holding him tight while he thrashed. "Let's hurry up!" Dean called over to Cass.

Dean anxiously watched his brother as Cass started to recite the spell, his voice echoing loudly in the room. After a moment, Sam became still and his eyes opened to reveal solid black voids. He looked over at Dean and Cass and let out a booming, demonic laugh.

"What's happening?!" Dean shouted above the laughter. Cass looked at Dean, flustered, and then back at the spell book. "It's not working, Cass!"

"I think the blood is too powerful. He has too much in him. I think we have to…"

Sam gave another roaring laugh.

"Have to what?!"

"I think we have to get some of the blood out of him."

"What, like bleed him out? Are you kidding me?" Dean looked at Sam, his eyes empty black holes, his face contorted in laugher. He hated the idea of causing any more harm to his brother but knew they were out of options.

"Yes, Dean, hurry!" Cass went back to chanting and Dean rushed over to Sam, pulling out his dagger.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said as he quickly slit long gashes across both of Sam's wrists. Blood started to flow freely and puddled on the floor. After a moment, Sam stopped laughing and his eyes turned back to their normal soft brown. He looked at Dean, confused.

"Dean…what's happening?" Sam asked weakly. Dean's heart hammered as he helplessly watched his brother bleed and listened to Cass continue the spell.

"It's okay, Sammy, you'll be okay," Dean tried to say calmly but his voice shook. They had certainly been through their fair share of close calls, but this was far worse than Dean could have imagined.

Cass shouted the last sentence of the spell and Sam screamed in agony, black smoke rising from him in great clouds. The smoke shot up through the ceiling in a billowing mass and then was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Sam fell back onto the table, limp and unmoving.

"Help me!" Dean called frantically over to Cass, not wanting to lose a second of time. "Get the medical supplies!"

Dean unfastened the restraints and pulled Sam's arms up over his head to slow the bleeding.

Cass returned a moment later with the supplies and Dean hurriedly wrapped tight bandages around both wrists. Dean sat on the table and shook his brother's shoulders roughly. "Wake up, Sammy. Wake up!" Sam's skin was pale and clammy, and Dean felt a rising horror at the thought that his brother lost too much blood and that Dean, not Asmodeus, was ultimately the one who killed him.

But finally, Sam shivered and moaned, and Dean was greeted with a flood of relief when his brother's eyes opened.

"Dea'…what happened…" Sam looked disoriented but Dean was relieved to see no evidence of pain taking hold of his brother. He pulled Sam into a hug and held him tightly.

"Sammy," Dean breathed. He felt Sam relax into his embrace. "You're okay. Does anything hurt?"

"No," Sam muttered, face pressed into his brother's shirt as he tried to take in slow, deep breaths. "I just feel so…"

"I know, I'm sorry, Sammy. We had to bleed you out like a stuck pig."

He heard Sam give a small snort of amusement. After he was sure his brother wouldn't lose consciousness again, Dean helped Sam off the table and shouldered most of Sam's weight as they made their way back to Dean's room. Once on the bed, Sam collapsed into the pillows, exhausted.

"Dean…thank you," Sam said wearily.

"You don't thank your family," Dean said while he adjusted the covers around Sam. "I'll always have your back."

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Sam began, his voice heavy with fatigue.

"Stop, Sammy, just relax. It's over." Dean settled next to his brother and propped himself against the headboard of the bed. "You're alright now."

Sam nodded and sighed tiredly, moving closer to his brother. Dean brushed Sam's hair back from his face, thinking absently of all the times he had done this same gesture when they were kids and Sam had woken from a nightmare. Sleep took Sam quickly and Dean was relieved to see no signs of pain or nightmares this time.

END


End file.
